


Hyperballad

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Explosions, F/M, Masturbation, Violence Against Cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona usually enjoys exploding alone - but sometimes she'll let Michael come along...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyperballad

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Burn Notice Kink Meme, responding to the prompt: _sometimes, when she's a certain kind of frustrated and nothing else seems to cut it, Fiona goes out to the middle of nowhere and plays with herself while either tossing grenades or by wiring up a whole bunch of different charges and then detonating them one by one. Sometimes she can even talk one of the guys into going with her._ Thank you to Amber for Beta!

It was still that morning. Deathly so, as if the rest of the world had passed away while they walked out to this desolate stretch of swampland.

Fiona’s heels were sucked down by the muck, as if the ground were jealous of their shiny newness. She tucked a hand against her hip and pointed to the rusted hulk of the Pontiac Sam had bought for scrap several days ago.

“Watch,” she instructed Michael. He squinted, still sweaty from his morning run, into the sunlight and waited expectantly for something to happen.

There was a pop – one tire exploding. Then the second, and the third.

Fiona purred beside him, her eyes closing, smiling. Her right hand – the one not holding the charge and pushing its button – began trailing down her neck.

Michael arched an eyebrow. “Is this some sort of new foreplay…” She cut him off, a finger to his lips, then returned his touch to her own body.

“Watch,” she repeated, releasing his hand, slipping her own under the collar of her blouse, over her small breast, circling her right nipple with feathery lightness. With every small detonation, she pinched the tip; finally exhausted of that stimulation, she turned to the other breast, blowing the windshield wipers.

Rapid, percussive explosions emanated from the car now – the backseat, the trunk, the right back side. Her hand snaked down to her belly. She shook her head as Michael’s eyes widened. “Watch,” she mouthed, pushing her hand down the front of her designer jeans, cupping the soft, bare wetness of her sex. Obviously teasing herself, she moved, unhurriedly, over the surface of her labia, dipping in to tease her clit as stuffing flew about the inside of the cab of the car.

Michael moved to touch her, but she shook her head. “No. Watch.” She pulled her shirt up and off, letting the sunlight tease her nipples, working her clit more earnestly. She started blowing the doors off, and they cartwheeled toward the windshield, shattering the glass.

He couldn’t remain passive; he pulled Fi to his chest. She ground her ass against his erection as his hand replaced hers on her mons. She screamed when he found her clit. It took two quick flicks of his fingers to make her keen and fall back against his chest; her palm slammed down on the button and the undercarriage glowed, lighting, before percussively blowing the entire car into pieces, sending it twisting end over end into the morning sky.

She hung limply in his arms for a moment, and he gently brushed back her hair as the debris rained down around them. Slowly, her eyes focused on his face.

“Every week?” he asked her.

“A girl needs to blow off steam,” she declared.

He didn’t ask questions. Michael kissed her forehead, rocking her gently, as the ruins smoldered in the distance.


End file.
